De profundis
by BrusselsSprout
Summary: Post- Season 2 episode 4 - follows Athelstan in Wessex after being crucified. Disclaimer - I don't own anything - just playing.
1. Chapter 1

"Wake up, Athelstan, we'll be late from Lauds!" Athelstan woke up with a start to the ringing of bells. The piercing pain broke through the curtain of dream and the peaceful island of his childhood disappeared. The bells kept ringing, though. It had been many years, he realized, since he heard their voice calling loudly the faithful to prayer. He opened his eyes and looked around in the dark place. It was difficult to see, but he could make out the contours of people lying around. He took in the stench of sickness, death and poverty laced with faint aroma of herbs. He was at a hospice.

The memories came rushing back. After his capture, he had been dragged in front of the bishop who cried at him: "Confess your grievous sins, Apostate!" He had had no answer – how could he explain to the bishop his life among the Norsemen? How could he tell him about crying to God in vain for a sign or an answer? How could the bishop understand that while he started out as a slave, he found something precious he has not had for as long as he remembered: a sense of belonging, a friend, a family. He yearned to be fully one of them and he had to accept their truths, their gods.

Yet, as he was condemned to be beaten and crucified he could not help but feel that it was divine justice. He was already condemned by his own conscience. It was one thing to share the life of Ragnar - to sleep under his roof, eat at his table, work alongside his family, listen to the stories of mighty heroes, and another thing to kill Christians. His soul had been broken the moment he planted his axe in the chest of an innocent monk. He killed a frightened boy who only wanted to protect the word of God like he had done once, a long time ago.

Even though the pain of the flogging, of the nails, of hanging on the cross was as unbearable as anything he had experience before, it was not entirely unwelcome. It felt like cleansing a terrible wound with a fiery blade.

"You are awake." His reverie was broken by a monk leaning over him with a cup. "Here, drink." Athelstan took the cup and felt the water relieve his parched throat. "Thank you."

"My name is Brother Cylwith. You were in fever for days, and I thought you are dying, but God in his grace chose to spare you. I will change your bandages, now." Athelstan found it hard to meet Brother Cylwith's inquisitive gaze. God chose to spare him, yet again, like he spared him from the fever that took his family. He spared him at Lindisferne, while all his brothers suffered the holy death of a martyr. God spared him from being sacrificed for the Norse gods, even though he denied Christ three times. He was spared from the plague that took sweet and innocent Gyda. If it was God's will, he could not understand it. Every time his life was spared, he got further and further from God. He remembered Ragnar's words to him: "you are alive because I chose to spare your life." "Why did you spare my life?" "I do not know yet".

While the Norsemen believed in fate, Ragnar doubted it. Athelstan was also not sure if it was truly God's grace that delivered him from Lindisferne to Kattigat then to Wessex. It felt more like a trick of the Devil or Loki, the trickster.

"Take this infusion. It will help you sleep" Brother Cylwith offered him some bitter liquid. Athelstan drank it and drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

Recovery was long and painful. Having only his tortured soul for company was the true agony. Ever since he was a young boy, Athelstan's days were filled with the quiet rhythm of work and prayer, first in the monastery, then in Ragnar's house. Idleness did not come easy to him. He found rest and peace in labour for his restless mind, as Father Cuthbert had taught him long ago.

In the small cell, where they moved him from the hospice, clearly as to protect the sick from his evil influence, he had no company other than daily brief visits from the soft spoken monk, Cylwith, who was clearly limiting his contact with Athelstan to what was needed to perform his healing duties. His thoughts wondered aimlessly, between memories and fears. His soul was Ragnar's black raven that flew into a house by mistake. His thoughts were flying around in terror looking for a way out, but crashing instead into the walls and dark corners of his shame, his fear and his doubt.

Father Cuthbert taught the young monks to recite their prayers as a way to find peace from fear, doubt or in temptation. Though he has not said them in a long time, he has not forgotten them. " _De profundis clamavi ad te domine, domine exuadi vocem meam. Fiant aures tuae intendentes in vocem deprecaionis meae…."_ he murmured as Brother Cylwith entered the room. The healing monk looked at him in astonishment "You speak Latin. So it must be true, you were one of us". "Yes, a long time ago" Athelstan admitted. "I was a monk at Lindisferne." he said as shame engulfed him. "What is your name?" "Athelstan". "Let me pray with you Brother Athelstan" said the healer continuing the Psalm " _Si iniquitates observaveris domine domine quis sustinebit. Quia apud te propitiatio est et propter legem tuam sustinui te domine. sustinuit anima mea in verbo eius speravit anima mea in domino._ _A custodia matutina usque ad noctem speret israel in domino. Quia apud dominum misericordia et copiosa apud eum redemptio._ _Et ipse redimet israel ex omnibus iniquitatibus eius."_ He made the sign of the cross and left the cell. The black raven in soul quieted and settled into a corner. The silent tears burning on his cheeks were like quiet rain washing down the dust from the parched earth.


	3. Chapter 3

"Wait here, Pagan." the guards pushed Athelstan on the floor. His legs were still too broken to walk, so he just laid there on the cold stone floor of the chapel. Brother Cylwith told him that morning that he was to see the King. He helped him wash and gave him a coarse sackcloth to wear, the attire of a penitent.

He waited with apprehension. He has heard many tales of King Ecbert. He had a reputation of being cunning, but also wise, pious yet with great ambition and pride, a good Christian, yet merciless with his enemies. Ever since the king put a stop to his execution, he has wondered why. Ecbert was known to always have a plan.

He heard footsteps approaching, but when he raised his head, it was not King Ecbert who towered above him, but the bishop. Cylwith told Athelstan that his name was Edmund and was generally considered to be a good man and a close advisor of the king.

"Brother Cylwith told me you were a monk once. Is this true, apostate?" he asked.

"Yes, I was captured at Lindisferne by the Norsemen." Athelstan replied.

"And yet, you have denied our Lord Saviour, you chose to worship false gods, while your brothers have suffered great martyrdom. Do you deny your grievous sins, Pagan?"

In the monastery, Father Cuthbert spoke often of the path to redemption. The sinner had to feel contrition, then confess, do penance and only then could he be reconciled with God. Athelstan felt a flash of defiance in this moment rather than contrition. He wanted to get up and yell in the bishop's face that Ragnar's gods were every bit as real as Jesus to him, that he felt no shame for wanting to share the beliefs of the person who was the closest to him in the entire world. But he did not yell. His monk training of discipline, obedience and humility sat too deeply in his core for such unseemly display of anger. And while he felt no contrition for turning to Odin, the death of the young monk and of the prior weighed heavily on his conscience. The bishop was right, his sins were great. "No." he simply replied.

"Are you ready to renounce the false gods? Are you ready to repent your sins?" thundered bishop Edmund.

Am I ready to turn my back on Ragnar's gods wondered Athelstan. "I will accept my penance" he replied softly.

"There is only one punishment fit for.."

Suddenly another figure emerged from the corner interrupting the bishop. "My dear Lord Bishop, this man has sinned greatly, but has clearly suffered greatly. Surely, Christian charity requires us to offer him a path to redemption." It was King Ecbert.

"Sire, this man has murdered good Christians. He betrayed Christ. He deserves to die." protested the bishop.

"If we kill our enemies like the heathens, what sets us apart from them my dear Lord Bishop?" King Ecbert challenged him.

"Very well, sire. The law of the holy church says that if a monk kills a man, he is to forfeit his rank and fast, and repent his sins ever after." replied Edmund.

"Which I am sure he will do. Now leave us, I wish to speak to him alone." ordered Ecbert.

Once everyone left the chapel, king Ecbert set on the steps before the altar, in front of Athelstan.

"What is your name?" he asked. "Athelstan."

"I am a curious man, Athelstan. I want to know why did the Norsemen choose to let you live, while they killed everyone else. Tell me, what is your secret?"

"Earl Ragnar chose to spare me, sire. I spoke their language a little and he wanted to learn of our ways and customs." replied Athelstan.

"I met this Earl Ragnar, a truly peculiar man. And he spoke our language rather well. So it was you, who taught him?" Athelstan could not read the king's expression. He felt like a rabbit, being circled by a bird of prey.

"Yes, sire. Ragnar treated me well. I taught him our language and customs and he taught me his way of life. He accepted me in his family, among his people." Athelstan struggled to explain. His feelings for Ragnar were confusing. He knew Ragnar could be reckless and dangerous, but he was good to Athelstan. He was like an older brother sometimes and a fierce leader at others, and in rare moments felt like a true friend. He inspired loyalty and love in Athelstan, and he knew, he would have walked through fire if Ragnar asked him to.

"This Earl Ragnar of yours seems like a smart man. He saw advantage to be gained from learning more about us. Likewise, I believe it is best to know your enemies. I wish to learn more about these pagans. You will tell me everything about their customs, Athelstan. It is my sincere hope that you will embrace our faith again with all your heart. Until then, I advise you to be cautious who you talk to and what you say. People in my court are good Christians, and will not tolerate a pagan. Silence is a virtue for a monk, as is obedience" and with this the king left the chapel.

Athelstan felt stunned. King Ecbert was everything they said him to be: a wise man with a purpose, yet cunning. He did not want to betray Ragnar, like once he foolishly betrayed his own people to Ragnar. Yet, how could he defy the great king who offered him mercy and at the same time invited him to play a dangerous game.


	4. Chapter 4

Next day Brother Cylwith came to Athelstan's cell with a wooden crutch.

"It is time to try getting on your feet again. It will hurt at first." He said. Athelstan tried to stand up, and sharp pain shot through his legs. He fell down. After a few tries, he finally managed to lean on the crutch and drag himself along.

"It is time to go outside. I want you to meet someone." said Brother Cylwith.

After several weeks in his dark cell, even the pale English sun was blinding. Athelstan dragged himself along slowly and painfully, conscious of the hostile stares. People whispered "pagan" to each other as they looked at him, some children threw rocks in his direction, but ran away after Brother Cylwith looked sternly at them. Athelstan pulled the hood of his sackcloth on his head.

Brother Cylwith led him to the herb garden of the villa. Athelstan heard a song; a sweet simple melody. The voice sounded like Gyda's, but the words were clearly Saxon, not Norse. Then he spotted the flaming red hair of a little girl of about eight years old among the long stalks of chamomile. The child noticed them and she flashed a shy smile towards Brother Cylwith. "I finished picking the verbena. Can you teach me something new today?" she asked Brother Cylwith.

Then she looked at Athelstan and touched his bandaged hands. "Your friend looks hurt. Was he also attacked by the Norsemen?"

"This is Maida" Brother Cylwith explained to Athelstan. "She turned up here a couple of weeks ago, starving, frightened. She is from Winchester, and she survived the raid there." Athelstan froze. Would this child recognize him as a ruthless killer? Is it possible that he hurt someone she knew – a father, brother or uncle? He couldn't bear looking into the girl's eyes and lowered his gaze.

"Maida, can you tell Athelstan how you escaped?" asked Brother Cylwith.

"When the Norsemen broke into the town, I was all alone in the house. Mother was out with my brothers, and I was hiding in the corner when the Norsemen came into our house. They were loud and scary, covered in blood and dirt. I was so scared. Then one of them saw me. He was a giant with a long hair and blue eyes like a frozen lake. I thought I was going to die, but he covered me with an old cloth sack and sent the other out of the house. I didn't know what to do, so I waited. When it got dark, the Norsemen were feasting in the church. Nobody was looking, so I sneaked out of the house. I tried to find my mother and brothers, but they were all dead. "Maida's voice started to break and she had tears in her eyes then she continued. "I started to run, across the fields, until I couldn't run anymore. I thought a lot about the kind giant. I don't think, he was a Norseman after all. Perhaps it was God's angel who saved me, so I could be a healer like Brother Cylwith".

Despite Maida's vague description, Athelstan had no doubt that it was Ragnar who saved the little girl's life. Ragnar asked him many times about Christian ideas of forgiveness, compassion and mercy. It was something that clearly intrigued him but found difficult to understand. In his world the rules were simpler. A warrior could always freely choose his actions, even to break oath against his lord, but he had to accept the consequences, eventually death. If you let the children of your enemy live, chances were they would seek revenge. Yet Ragnar genuinely tried to understand how Athelstan's god could triumph not through show of force, but through meekness. In Ragnar's world there was no reward for the meek, neither in this life, nor the next. They were considered weak and could not protect their families. Christian values seemed to have no place in Ragnar world of warriors and shield maidens and their fierce gods. Yet, Athelstan knew that for all his strength and fierceness, Ragnar did not like killing. He felt blood sick and tired, often. Killing was his duty as earl to protect his people and to give them a chance for riches and glory, but it brought him no joy or thrill.

"I am so sorry, you lost so much. But I am glad God has saved you, Maida." said Athelstan.

"She is a bright girl with a gift for healing. I will take her to the monastery where my sister lives." said Brother Cylwith.

"I would rather stay with you, Brother Cylwith." exclaimed Maida with tears in her eyes.

"Oh sweet child, I am afraid it is not possible." said Brother Cylwith ruefully.

"I was about your age, Maida when they took me to the monastery. I remember that I was also afraid at first. I held onto my mother's hands and cried. I asked her not to leave me there with those strangers" Athelstan said, lost in a long forgotten memory. "Everything seemed so strange, the dormitories, the monks with their dark clothes. But everyone was kind. Our prior was strict, yet gentle. We worked hard, but I learnt so much, something new every day. I learnt to read and write and to paint. I learnt many prayers and songs that lift your soul to God. I have seen many places."

"So you were happy in the monastery?"

"I found joy and peace in my work and my prayer. Yes, I suppose, I was happy." said Athlestan. "Don't be afraid Maida."

"We will leave tomorrow, Brother Athelstan." said the healer. "The king sent me to tend to one of his aeldermen, who is unwell. " Athelstan heart sank. Brother Cylwith was the only friendly face he has seen since his capture. "Child, take the basket over to the hospice, we will need to prepare."The monk said to Maida.

"Of course, Brother Cylwith" she replied. "I hope your wounds will heal soon" she said to Athelstan and turned to leave.

"God bless you, Maida" Athelstan said.

After Maida left, the two men walked back in silence to Athelstan's cell.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me, Brother Cylwith." Athelstan said finally. "Fare well."

"I will pray for you, Brother that you may find healing in God's light. You have been tested hard, it was God's will".

"And I failed the test" said Athelstan bitterly.

"If you keep searching for God's light, I am sure you will find the truths you are seeking. Remember, the blood of Lamb can wash away all sins. But you need to find peace in your soul." and with this Cylwith left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Athelstan has never been this lonely in his entire life. Having been born into a big, poor family, joining the monastery as a child, then being taken by Ragnar; he was always surrounded by people. In fact, he used to treasure his moments of solitary prayer and working as an illustrator as it had allowed him to be alone. Solitude was welcome then, even comfortable. His spirit was filled with God's word and light. Time was a sailboat blown by brisk winds sailing smoothly and purposefully on gentle waves.

His present loneliness was quite different. It was the utter, hopeless isolation of a leper. Athelstan mostly kept to his little, dark cell, only going outside early morning or late evening when the bustling activity of the king's court has quieted down. He was a ghost, sitting quietly in corners. He wondered if the king has forgotten about him and whether he should set out to try to find another place. But he had nowhere to go; he did not know a soul in Wessex.

After a week or so, a guard arrived to solemnly announce that the King requested his presence. Athelstan leaned on his crutch and followed the guard. Ecbert was sitting alone at a long table eating his dinner. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guard and gestured to Athelstan to sit.

"Are you hungry?" he asked Athelstan. "Have something to eat, drink."

Was this a test? Athelstan wondered. "I have to fast, sire" he replied carefully.

"Nonsense." said the king. "If you are to be any use to me, you need to regain your strength and therefore, you need to eat something. I command it." and he filled a cup for Athelstan with mead.

"Thank you, sire".

"So tell me, Athelstan, before we captured you, why did the Norsemen split their forces?"

"Earl Ragnar's family and earldom was attacked by another earl. He sailed back to find his family and to take back his home." Athelstan replied. "But King Horik stayed behind."

"And this King Horik let Ragnar take half the men?"

"The men were Ragnar's. While King Horik calls himself a king, the earls are all very powerful and they do not have to obey the king."

"And you were Ragnar's man, no? So why did he leave you behind?"

"It was my choice, sire. There was nobody among King Horik's men who could speak our language. I was hoping to be able to help him talk. I hoped it might prevent further bloodshed." Athelstan replied. And it was the truth, even if Ragnar did not understand his decision. Athelstan was torn about it, but he was certain at the time that it had been the right choice. Even though he knew Ragnar was hurt and angry. Ragnar turned out to be right though. King Horik was a different kind of man. He seemed to care about plunder rather than negotiation. Athelstan had no useful role to play.

"So you have not fully abandoned your faith, your people all this time?" the king asked.

Athelstan didn't know how to answer. Truthfully, he did not know what he believed anymore. "The light of our God grew fainter and fainter there; and the stories about their gods have become more vivid in my mind." This would have to do for now.

There was a long pause. Athelstan feared that he said too much. King Ecbert's face was unreadable.

"You seem like an honest person, Athelstan. The faith of my people is simple and unquestioning. They believe in our true God and fill their soul with Jesus Christ so there is no space for false gods." Ecbert finally said pointedly. Then he continued:

"I will be sitting in court tomorrow, listening to claimants. It is of course a most tedious process, with the never-ending disputes and complaints. But as King, I must do it. Do the Norsemen have laws?"

"Yes, sire. Their earls decide on disputes and they are all bound by the law. Sometimes, it is a law-giver, a simple man who has been entrusted to listen to the gods, who decides a case." replied Athelstan, relieved that the conversation has taken a safer turn.

"I want you to come tomorrow to listen. Maybe we can talk some more then."

"As you wish, sire" replied Athelstan and left the room on his crutch. On the way out, he realized he forgot to bow to the King.


End file.
